Category: Entertainment

  • Artificial Sonnets

    Artificial Sonnets

    VII. The flick’ring of the lights was the first clueThat something was amiss. The poet frowned.The building seemed to tremble then subdue,Accompanied by muffled thudding sounds.A creeping cold unease began to grow.He got up from his desk; his door was locked.He tried his phone and found the signal blocked,He shouted and heard only an echo.What…

  • Tardigrade Physiology

    Tardigrade Physiology

    Here’s where they live:Hot springs / deep sea / shingles on my roof Terrestrial Tardigrades adhere to liverwortsand feel most comfortable with a water film But some have survived in spaceSome have been spilled on the moontossed carelessly in the lunar dust They’re ‘dead’ there of courseBut a well-aimed droplet from a droppermight well reanimate…

  • Artificial Sonnets

    Artificial Sonnets

    VI. The poet cut a sorry figure lately;Early triumphs had lost all of their glitter.His boss called, which did not surprise him greatly,But poverty required he was no quitter.His manager was terse, her tone was brittleAs she explained to him the situation:“This lady oversees a hospitalAnd hopes you’ll diagnose an aberration.”He nodded to the guest;…

  • Tardigrade Morphology & Reproduction

    Tardigrade Morphology & Reproduction

    Barrell-shaped with stubby legs Their caudal segments are enrichedwith a fourth set of these legseven pudgier than the other six Only a few enjoy pigment-cup eyessince most are eye-less Others are endowed with bristles along the head and bodyfor sensation And the entirety of the bodyperforms respiration The round tube-holein the middle of their facescontains…

  • On the Existence of Poetry, An Ars Poetica

    On the Existence of Poetry, An Ars Poetica

    Poetry is not real. It hovers overthe edge of existencethe blurry line betweenlife and death. It does not dealwith the mundane and banalthreads of being. It enters into themicroscopic, trivial things, the important thingsthe things that are painful to think aboutthe things that burn us if we get too closethe things that bring us joy…

  • Artificial Sonnets

    Artificial Sonnets

    V. The poet knocked politely on the doorThen opened it and stepped into the room.His boss was there – as she had been before – Joined by a man in army uniform.The poet’s skin went cold. His boss said: “Hi,Welcome. This customer wants to discussSome poetry-based issues, which is whyI thought it best that you…

  • Tardigrade Nomenclature

    Tardigrade Nomenclature

    Some call them water bearson account of their bear-like gait Goeze charmingly called them: Mein kleiner Wasserbär (my little-water-bear) (In profile, Goeze himself resembled a Tardigrade) Today Germans label them –  with decidedly less charm:Bärtierchen (little-bear-animal) But it was Spallanzi who christened them: Tardigradum (slow-walker) like teens out for a saunter with their mobile devicesstepping…

  • Artificial Sonnets

    Artificial Sonnets

    IV. The poet wore a smile, broad, smug and warm,Took praise from everyone who offered it.He thought: “I am a sage of my art form!And now I’ll just sit back and take credit.”He burst into his office in this mood,The grin still wide upon his haughty face,To find two people talking there – how rude!Who…

  • Spiritual Activism (for Frederick Buechner)

    Spiritual Activism (for Frederick Buechner)

    We know what we should be doing with our lives:meeting the world’s deep hunger with our own, as we nourish the soul, with all its tribulationsand desires, and stand like a rock on principles. When we get off the hurtling merry-go-round, we discover the everyday rhythms of living: remembering how to breathe, to integrate body…

  • Jason’s Daddy

    Jason’s Daddy

    The sun was just beginning to push through the clouds that draped over the Greyhound Bus Terminal on the corner of Mission and First in Downtown Los. Angeles when the six o’clock bus screeched to a halt. It was nearly half an hour late when it pulled into Gate 2, and the line of passengers…

  • Artificial Sonnets

    Artificial Sonnets

    III. The poet stared at the blank screen and sighed:Procrastination is my only skill.His office – sparse, clean, pale – made him feel ill.Employment seemed to eat at his inside.He didn’t know what fate may yet befall himBut knew he must deliver on the hype,So reached out to the keyboard set before him,Stretched out his…

  • Pi Mysterium

    Pi Mysterium

    … and the Mathematician Who Made Me Believe “It simply goes on forever.”I am not convinced.Wary of things immeasurable,Such as love, infinity,Creator, existence. Suppose you divideForever by four,Now, forever is a fraction;Leaping, and then divingToward no definitive action. And, what did Stonehenge know of greek? – Her transcendental rock, mineral-stackedIn sly mockery,Asking that we compareHoly…